"Hey soul sister!"
"Ain't that Mr. Mister, on the radio!"
"Stereo!"
"The way you move ain't fair y'know!"
"Girl lookathat body!"
"Thassright, them boobs are shaking!"
And there was a knock.
We stopped jumping on the bed and looked at each other. I then stepped quietly off the bed and tiptoed to the door. There was no one outside. I turned to give my roommate (and best friend), Anya, a puzzled look, but she was staring at the translucent window. A shadow - there was someone there.
She jumped off the bed and grabbed a badminton racquet from the shelf. I grabbed two bottles of deodorant.
Another knock.
"Shut up," She whispered as we both wore dressing gowns over our Saturday-Night-Wild-clothes (bra and a bottom, basically).
We crept to the window and she opened it. As soon as she did, I sprayed deodorant like a possessed woman with body odour in our visitor's face. She brought the badminton racquet down on his head twice before he yelled,
"Godammit, you two! It's me!"
I stopped spraying deo wildly and Anya stood there comically, the racquet held over her head, ready to be brought down on his.
I looked at his face.
"No shit."
"It IS you!"
"What a waste of a super assault, tchah!"
"Seriously!"
"Come in, child. You're not planning to just stand there are you?"
He was clearly at a loss for words. Can't really blame him, he probably wasn't expecting to see his two best friends after five years with hardly any clothes on (dressing gowns aren't technically clothes, but whatever). Then again, we weren't quite prepared either, but we were polite enough to say something.
And that's how it came to be the wildest of the Saturday-Night-Wilds, even though it was spent doing completely platonic things (pfft, like we had any action in our lives anyway) like singing Christmas carols loudly and catching up, and drinking tea and beer on the rug in our little apartment.
We decided that we were idiots to lose touch for so long ("We had a fall out, boy," We told him) and that we were to be friends and till death do us all part.
"I strongly dislike that line."
"Shut up, Anya."
"Ain't that Mr. Mister, on the radio!"
"Stereo!"
"The way you move ain't fair y'know!"
"Girl lookathat body!"
"Thassright, them boobs are shaking!"
And there was a knock.
We stopped jumping on the bed and looked at each other. I then stepped quietly off the bed and tiptoed to the door. There was no one outside. I turned to give my roommate (and best friend), Anya, a puzzled look, but she was staring at the translucent window. A shadow - there was someone there.
She jumped off the bed and grabbed a badminton racquet from the shelf. I grabbed two bottles of deodorant.
Another knock.
"Shut up," She whispered as we both wore dressing gowns over our Saturday-Night-Wild-clothes (bra and a bottom, basically).
We crept to the window and she opened it. As soon as she did, I sprayed deodorant like a possessed woman with body odour in our visitor's face. She brought the badminton racquet down on his head twice before he yelled,
"Godammit, you two! It's me!"
I stopped spraying deo wildly and Anya stood there comically, the racquet held over her head, ready to be brought down on his.
I looked at his face.
"No shit."
"It IS you!"
"What a waste of a super assault, tchah!"
"Seriously!"
"Come in, child. You're not planning to just stand there are you?"
He was clearly at a loss for words. Can't really blame him, he probably wasn't expecting to see his two best friends after five years with hardly any clothes on (dressing gowns aren't technically clothes, but whatever). Then again, we weren't quite prepared either, but we were polite enough to say something.
And that's how it came to be the wildest of the Saturday-Night-Wilds, even though it was spent doing completely platonic things (pfft, like we had any action in our lives anyway) like singing Christmas carols loudly and catching up, and drinking tea and beer on the rug in our little apartment.
We decided that we were idiots to lose touch for so long ("We had a fall out, boy," We told him) and that we were to be friends and till death do us all part.
"I strongly dislike that line."
"Shut up, Anya."
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